Oscillation
by errantimpulses
Summary: Impulse refuses to let Inertia get away with his latest stunt. Inertia is intent on besting his rival. A little too intent. Dubcon...clonesex...


"Inertia!"

Thaddeus looks up to see Impulse standing in the doorway to his underground laboratory. He turns away from the monitors slowly, straightening to face his other half. Lesser half. Arms folding across his chest, he smirks. "And what brings you here?"

"Like you have to ask! All those people! How could you do that?! And they think it was me!"

Thaddeus rolls his eyes. The boy was clearly overreacting. It hadn't been that many people – and no one had gotten seriously injured. He wasn't a homicidal super-villain. There is really only one person he wants dead – the person standing in front of him right now. He does have to give Impulse credit, though. His stunt, carefully planned and completely controlled, had been done solely to rattle Impulse. He hadn't planned it would rattle him enough to make him seek him out. And stay focused long enough to find him. But here he was. Thaddeus would have to make a note that, as painstakingly long as it seemed to take, Impulse was capable of thought.

"You have to stop this! We have to end this now," his near-mirror image says, so seriously that it might have even seemed like a real threat. From anyone else. He isn't anyone else, though. Still, business is business. He unfolds his arms, crouching into a ready stance, gesturing at Impulse.

"Bring it on, Allen."

And just because Impulse is _capable_ of thought doesn't mean he does it often. Thaddeus suppresses a sigh as Impulse comes barreling towards him. Effective as that headlong rush might be against a slower opponent, he's anything but slower. He waits until Impulse is almost on top of him, then switches his vibrational frequency just in time to see Impulse's eyes widen as he goes sailing through Thaddeus's chest. Impulse isn't expecting it, and tries to decrease the velocity with which he's heading towards the monitors, unsuccessfully. Thaddeus, of course, has planned this, and turns quickly, solidifying his hand enough to shove the back of Impulse's head and increase the force of the impact. While Impulse is still stunned, he grabs a fistful of messy brown hair, yanking Impulse off the floor, and throwing him across the room. Impulse lets out a pained grunt as his shoulder blades slam against the wall.

Thaddeus waits on the other side of the room. Watches as Impulse runs the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away blood, and smiles. It _will_ end now. He has to work hard to keep from striding across the room and beating the tar out of him. But he has to wait, and let Impulse come to him, to initiate the attacks and give Thaddeus the picoseconds needed for him to access them and counterattack. It's not the only way he can win – he's at least a physical match to Impulse, in addition to being his intellectual superior. In close combat, he knows their strength is matched. He has no doubt he would win, but the close proximity would cut down on his time to plan. Which is his greatest advantage. So, to guarantee a victory, he waits. Waits for Impulse to drag himself to his feet, swaying. It seems to take forever. He taps his foot impatiently. "Come on, Allen, you have to be good for more than that." And he blinks as Impulse is speeding towards him again, his recovery almost too fast for him to see.

"Stop calling me that!" his double says, hands balled into fists, striking out. But Thaddeus defends the same way as before, vibrating his body and spinning around, slamming his heel into the small of Impulse's back. He cries out as he hits the floor. He's skidded a bit, but Thaddeus backs away a few steps, just to stay comfortable.

"Why not? It's your name, isn't it?"

Impulse glares at him as he pushes himself to his hands and knees. "Not like that. You're saying it like it's bad." And he's back on the floor, Thaddeus having given into temptation just for a minute, kicking him in the jaw, before moving to the other side of the room.

"But it is, don't you see? Your grandfather took everything away from my family. Everything! And was rewarded for it! Where's the justice in that? You're the self-righteous superhero. Tell me."

And he glares right back at Impulse, who's trying to pull himself to his feet again.

"Though, to tell you the truth, you're really not that much of a hero, are you? As much of a cad Barry Allen was in his personal life, at least as the Flash, he saved people. He was a jerk, though, and you…. You're not good enough to kiss even his boots."

"You shut up about him. Just shut up!" and Impulse is flying at him again. He tries to suppress a yawn. If he didn't know the fact that soon he wouldn't have to deal with Impulse ever again, he'd almost be disappointed. He blinks in surprise as, at the last moment, instead of running into him, Impulse ducks to the side, fists moving towards Thaddeus's head. Thaddeus has just enough time to react, and the hand moves harmlessly through him. He keeps his hands solid, though, and reaches out to grab Impulse's hair. But it's _his_ hand that moves through harmlessly this time. He grits his teeth as he and Impulse face each other, moving and sidestepping, every kick, every punch, missing its intending target.

This isn't disappointing, he thinks, surprised. This is almost a serious fight, and he almost really has to concentrate. He has to try to match his vibrational frequency to Impulse's, in order to connect, but at the same time alter it against Impulse's for any incoming attacks. It's almost challenging. And he does have to concentrate. He's not sure if Impulse knows the dangers of this constant change of frequencies. He really doesn't want to think about what would happen if they accidentally matched frequencies while another's hand was inside them. Best scenario? As the frequencies slowly change, everything shifts, separates self from non-self, and the two opposing parts move away. Worst scenario? Someone has a massive chunk of foreign matter cutting through internal organs, and the other loses a limb. And while he wouldn't mind seeing a rearrangement of Impulse's organs, he'd rather like to keep all his appendages.

He doesn't have to worry about that for long – surprisingly Impulse is the one to match frequencies first – probably dumb luck. But the uppercut makes Thaddeus stagger backwards, keeping him off balance long enough for Impulse to tackle him to the ground, fists flying furiously. It only takes a moment for Thaddeus to react, and he blocks several hits, but a few get past. They're random, not really aimed for anything, hitting his jaw, cheek, forehead. Impulse isn't thinking. He's fighting on pure emotion and instinct.

This is what Thaddeus wanted to avoid. He barely has time to block one fist before the other's flying at him. He can fight back, and does, shoving fists at Impulse's jaw and face. He tries vibrating a few times, but Impulse catches on, and, due to their close proximity, can match it more easily than before. It's somewhat useless, because he's not getting free. But he does it anyway – it takes less concentration for him to vibrate than it does for Impulse to match him. It makes the blows coming at his face less frequent, giving him time to think. It's still not enough, though, and they fight this way for a while. He imagines it must look less like a metahuman super-fight than a couple of schoolboys tussling.

And it's not more than that. Thaddeus wants Impulse dead, of course, but there's little room to do more than small jabs with no real power behind them, scratching and clawing, and yes, even a little hair pulling. He's a little embarrassed at that, but he wasn't trained for this kind of fighting. He was trained for hit and run attacks. And Impulse's hair is so yankable. But this wrestling is lowering his chances of winning. He needs to get Impulse off him, now, and go back to the original plan. And it might not be the fairest way of doing it, but, he supposes since he's fighting a super-hero that makes him a super-villain. And super-villains aren't supposed to fight fair. As Impulse pulls his arm back for a swing, Thaddeus brings his knee up between his legs, hard. Impulse grunts and falls on top of Thaddeus, directly, arms moving out to his sides, on Thaddeus's. Their stomachs and chests press together, the sudden, unexpected weight knocking the wind out of Thaddeus. As he recovers, drawing in a sharp breath, Impulse moans in pain. And it's electricity shooting through Thaddeus. Impulse's lips are right next to his, barely touching, but there is contact there. He can feel the moistness of Impulse's blood, from the split lip Thaddeus had given him earlier - it's mostly healed, but the blood hasn't had time to dry. Impulse moves his head slowly, shaking, and it's on his lips. And he can't help but lick his them, reveling in the coppery taste of his rival's blood.

Impulse is recovering, though, and his hands tighten on Thaddeus's wrists. He hisses at being caught off-balance, but again, fair play is not something he's supposed to worry about. He brings his head up, closing the short distance Impulse has risen to, and bites. Impulse whines in pain, and Thaddeus grins as the wound reopens, blood spilling past his teeth. Impulse is whimpering, removing his hands from Thaddeus's wrists to push himself away, but that just makes it worse. Thaddeus takes advantage of his release by catching Impulse's hands. He stops biting long enough to flip them, getting a better position, and, having found a new, effective strategy at causing Impulse pain, resumes it. He bares his teeth, biting at Impulse's neck, sharp and hard. Each bite draws out a high-pitched, pained cry, and each cry makes Thaddeus's smile widen, and makes him bite harder.

Now Impulse is the one trying to vibrate out of the way, but Thaddeus has much more experience at dividing his attentions, at being able to focus, fully focus, on several things at once, and it's hardly an effort to match vibrations while continuing his assault. Impulse gives up on that shortly, twisting and squirming underneath him, again trying to push him away, apparently forgetting that pushing makes it worse. "What an idiot," Thaddeus thinks, twisting Impulse's wrists painfully. Impulse is trying to kick at him, now, and though he doesn't have much leverage, Thaddeus isn't going to let him pull the same stunt he had. He lowers his weight onto him, forcing Impulse's legs apart and moving between them – now all the other boy can do is kick out ineffectively, and whine, writhe underneath him, and try to push down against the floor.

Down. Not simply away, but down, gasping panickedly, and Thaddeus realizes with a growing horror that he's hard, and pushing against Impulse roughly. Sure, he's neglected fully exploring his sexuality during his pursuit of this revenge that has been all-encompassing of his life, but he didn't think for a moment that it would include this. But…it does make sense. He's got Impulse beaten, writhing beneath him in pain and panic, and each time he brings his mouth down to bite at the now-bruised neck, his lips tingle with the electricity Impulse gives off, and he can still taste the blood of his foe. And he wants to taste it again. His brings his head up to face Impulse, seeing the wide, shocked eyes beneath the goggles, and he releases one of Impulse's wrists to tug the mask up and back. Impulse glares at him and brings his freed fist up, but Thaddeus is expecting that and grabs it, forcing it above his head, then moving the other arm to join it, pinning both Impulse's wrists with one hand. The other he twists in Impulse's hair and pulls. Impulse cries out, and Thaddeus moves forward, clamping down on that opened mouth, moving his lips harshly, shoving his tongue in roughly, licking along Impulse's teeth. There's blood coating them, too. He only licks for a short moment before he pulls his tongue out, just before Impulse's teeth slam shut. He'd been expecting that, too.

He bites at Impulse's lips again, and licks along the closed teeth. And they part enough for him to lick in quickly, and pull out before they shut again. And this is the new game, the new challenge. Impulse is trying to bite back, unsuccessfully. The next time he gets his tongue past Impulse's teeth, he brushes their tongues together roughly, and sucks in, making the other boy shiver. He sucks harder to get the idea across. Subtlety is lost on Impulse. After a few minutes, he gets it, moving his tongue tentatively into Thaddeus's mouth. He only allows it to move slowly inside him for a few brief seconds before catching it lightly in his teeth, causing the other boy to whimper in surprise. He sucks at it, and the next whimper is of pleasure, Impulse's eyes roll slightly. He can feel the other boy getting hard against him, twisting beneath him and rubbing up. Thaddeus increases the pressure of his teeth until the next whimper is in pain. Then he bites harder. Impulse is pushing against his hand again, but the angle Thaddeus is in is too superior. Thaddeus releases the grip on his hair and begins tugging at the buckles and catches of his own suit. It's awkward, and he needs to do some shifting and switching of hands to get out of it without letting Impulse's hands free, but he manages. Once he's stripped to the waist, he works on Impulse's suit, which, despite being almost identical to his, is more difficult to remove due to the position. But again, he manages, though he does have to release Impulse's tongue to work at the catches with his teeth.

He returns to Impulse's mouth swiftly, their naked chests pressing together, both slick with sweat from the fight. He presses his tongue inside Impulse's mouth, moving it quickly, and Impulse lets him, pressing his lips against Thaddeus's, not biting. He's moaning, and bucks up as Thaddeus continues to grind against him. Thaddeus breaks off and stares down at his opponent. Impulse's eyes are wild, his breathing ragged. He rests his free hand on Impulse's forehead, smoothing hair away, unable to resist the urge to yank it. It's not as hard a pull as before, but it still makes Impulse hiss through his teeth.

He ducks his head quickly to lick along the bruised, bitten neck, causing the boy underneath to quiver, and moan again. He brings his head up again, so he's looking into Impulse's eyes. "You want what comes next, don't you? You want me to give it to you."

Impulse shakes his head quickly. "No."

Thaddeus scowls. "Liar." He narrows his eyes. "Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

Impulse opens his mouth, then shuts it. Shakes his head.

Thaddeus smirks. "But if I'm planning to do it, it has to be bad, right?"

Impulse glares. Nods.

Thaddeus chuckles. "Well, you're probably right." He pauses for a moment, trying to think of what else he should say. Should he reassure him? Or just taunt him more? He lets go of Impulse's wrists, pausing again to watch the reaction. But Impulse doesn't strike out, just moves his wrists slowly in circles, getting the feeling back. Thaddeus is satisfied, for now, that that's all Impulse is going to do, so he moves his hands down Impulse's heaving chest, to his waist. Quickly, before Impulse's startled yelp is finished, Impulse's pants are around his ankles, and Thaddeus is working on the briefs only a little more gently.

"Hey – hey, what are-" Impulse gasps mid-question as Thaddeus slides his hand quickly over his exposed cock. Impulse's hands fly down to Thaddeus's shoulders, squeezing hard, and his first instinct is to knock them away. But he lets them stay there as he works at the bottom of his own suit. He pulls back, away from Impulse, to push them and his briefs down to his knees. In moving back, he's caused Impulse's hands to slip from his shoulders, down to his hips. Thaddeus pauses to look down. With the exception of the hair color, it's another place they're identical. He licks his lips and wraps his hand around himself. He's never done this before, but having centuries of practical information crammed in his head, including detailed lessons of human anatomy and physiology, in addition to having lived and interacted with living people in a sex-crazed nation for almost a year makes him fairly confident he can do this correctly. He looks down at Impulse, who's staring at _him_, watching his hands as he strokes himself, slicking his dick with pre-come. Impulse's eyes are comically wide as he stares, a mixture of confusion and fascination, and his mouth hangs open slightly, his breath still escaping in short, panting breaths. Thaddeus brings his free hand to Impulse's mouth, running a finger over the full lower lip before pressing it inside, moving it slowly in and out.

"Suck," he says, and Impulse does, pursing his lips and sucking harshly, tongue moving reflexively against Thaddeus's finger enough to make him moan. It feels good. If Thaddeus trusted him not to bite he'd make Impulse suck him off. He contents himself with moving both his hands faster. "Yeah, that's it, Allen," he gasps.

Impulse's eyes widen at the name, brows pulling together, and he bites down, hard. Thaddeus yelps, pulling back his hand. He glares, baring his teeth, and backhands his rival. Impulse cries out in pain, then glares back at Thaddeus, starting to sit up and bringing his hands forward. Thaddeus catches him by the wrists again easily, wrestling him back to the floor, pinning him with his weight. He moves Impulse's wrists again so he has a free hand – the one Impulse had been sucking on - and brings it down between their bodies, between Impulse's legs. And moves his fingers up.

Impulse goes stock-still for whole moments, mouth working soundlessly, eyes wide and unfocused. Thaddeus grins against his neck and twists his fingers. The noises Impulse hadn't been making before come out now, and he tosses his head from side to side, crying out loudly. Another twist and Impulse is forming words, things like, "Stop" and "Wait" and "No" fall on deaf ears as Thaddeus keeps pushing deeper, then slides his fingers out only to thrust in again. Impulse manages to get his arms free of Thaddeus's slippery hand to try to push him away, whimpering and protesting. Thaddeus doesn't bother trying to stop him – the fists are a minor annoyance, but the protests and panic are so nice. Like music, and he's so hard it's starting to hurt. He wraps his free hand partway around Impulse's neck, squeezing slightly. Not even hard to bruise, he thinks. Then he resumes licking and biting Impulse's neck. Each brush of his tongue sends electrical sparks flying through his body. He wonders if he'd taste this good to others – he figures he must. Impulse balks a little less with each lick and light graze of teeth, complaints mingled in with whimpers and gasps of pleasure. They aren't as pleasant to hear as his cries of pain, but it's almost as good. Making Impulse need him and want what he, a Thawne, has to give, is deeply satisfying as well. He curls his fingers slightly, and Impulse stills for a moment, tensing up. Then he releases a long, low moan. Thaddeus furrows his brow and presses gently. Impulse's entire body shakes, eyes squeezing shut and hands reaching up to press into his shoulders.

Thaddeus waits, completely frozen. After a few short seconds, Impulse moves against him. Still, Thaddeus doesn't move. Impulse squeezes his shoulders again.

"…Please…" Impulse gasps out. Thaddeus grins and bites, causing Bart to throw back his head and groan.

"I knew it. Say it again."

Impulse bites his lip. Shakes his head. Thaddeus withdraws his fingers, making the younger boy whimper again. Impulse presses Thaddeus closer, rubbing up against him, and he can feel his stomach getting wet as Impulse's dick moves against it. He pulls away slightly, minimizing the contact points between their bodies. Impulse lets out a high-pitched whine.

"Say it again. Say please."

Impulse bites his lips. There's half a beat before, "Please."

Thaddeus grins wider, staring down. "Say you want it."

"I do. I want it. Grife, please?" Thaddeus continues staring down, and when Impulse opens his eyes, he can see the hunger in them, the want, the need. Impulse's hands rise up, stroking over his chest and shoulders.

"You want me, Allen." Thaddeus lowers himself back down. Impulse sighs and wraps his arms around him, holding him close.

The noise Impulse makes as Thaddeus slides into him slowly might have a complaint at the name hidden in it, but it's hard to tell. He works into a rhythm slowly, more for his own benefit than Impulse's. He's just trying to get used to the tightness around him, panting. Impulse's moans convey the pain he feels, but there must be more pleasure in it, as he move his hips up to meet Thaddeus's next thrust, pressing on the blonde's shoulders. Thaddeus moves up enough to meet Impulse's lips. The kiss is sloppy, more tongues meeting and licking around, over, than lips. Catching the excited groans against his mouth sends vibrations through his whole body and he pumps faster, gasping and panting, mouthing at Impulse's lips a final time before moving down to his cheek, then neck, resting his head in the crook. Impulse's cheek brushes against his forehead, throwing his head back and crying out at each thrust.

"Ine…Thad," he whimpers plaintively, small fingers digging into his shoulders hotly. Thaddeus growls then, turning his head to bite at Impulse's neck, sucking in harshly. Impulse's mouth opens wide, noiselessly working as his back arches and comes between them. Thaddeus continues mouthing at his neck but moves one of his hands from Impulse's hair down between them, spreading the slickness up Impulse's chest, making the younger boy whimper. Impulse's head is still thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and he continues bucking up against Thaddeus, faster and faster until Thaddeus comes with a low grunt, muffled against Impulse's neck.

Impulse's hands are relaxing on his shoulders, and he pulls away a bit, twisting his body so he's lying on his side next to Impulse, on the cold tile floor. Eyes still closed, Impulse whimpers and turns on his side as well, facing Thaddeus and wrapping arms around him. He nuzzles his head against Thaddeus's chin, hair warm and soft. Knowing Impulse can't see him, he allows a soft smile, and brings his arms up around the other boy. His words are derisive, but soft, "I should have known you'd want to cuddle, Allen."

"Bart," comes the sleepy murmur against his neck.

Thaddeus smirks. "Brat."

"Surprisingly better than the way you say 'Allen'."

"Brat it is, then."

"I didn't say I was okay with that!" but Bart's giggling, soft, moist bursts of air against his flesh.

Thaddeus doesn't respond verbally, just squeezes Bart closer as he begins to drift off against Thaddeus's chest. Thaddeus shifts to look down at the vulnerable eyelids of his enemy, thinking about how easy it would be to kill him in his sleep. He really was an idiot, letting his guard down in front of his enemy this severely. Thaddeus pauses. There would be plenty of time in the future to kill his rival. He supposes this called for a temporary truce. It wasn't a total waste, come to think of it. He'd had Bart Allen on his knees and begging. Well, begging. Maybe he'll be on his knees next time.

Thaddeus is barely able to contemplate what a complacent idiot he's becoming – probably Bart's influence already – before he's drifting off to sleep, too.


End file.
